In defense of lawns...sort of

I've often thought about the drastic nature of our society and every time I hear an example of yet another good idea gone rogue I sigh with impatience.  Why are we all so quick to label things good, bad, right, wrong?

Take, for instance, the case of the humble lawn.  There was a time when an endless expanse of grassy carpet equaled Nirvana.  Every house in my development had the requisite square of green gracing the front yard and a fake redwood picnic table out back.  I recall as a child sitting in a neighbor's lawn trying to detect one single weed (okay, it was the pre-cell phone era and I guess I had a lot of time on my hands back then).  Lush green grass on the outside of every home and wall-to-wall carpeting on the inside equaled the Middle-Class American Dream Neighborhood.

Fast forward to today.  Vegetables: good. Grass: bad.  Vegetables have flowers so they can be decorative; they nourish us, both body and soul.  Lawns give nothing back.  They take a tremendous amount of time and energy to maintain.  And EVERYONE knows that to attain a weed-free lawn, you need a truckload of chemicals.  All of this is true.  Except for one small detail: Grass is a plant, not an entity devised by some evil genius to destroy core American values.  Where is all this anti-fescue sentiment leading?  Will there come a day when those intrepid souls who plant grass in their front yards will suffer the taunts and jeers of their neighbors?  Will people spit on their lawn as they pass?

Grass can serve a purpose.  It is often vital along hillsides and other areas where soil erosion would be problematic without grassy roots anchoring it down.  It provides a relatively clean carpet over dirt and is home and food to many living things.  Granted, we often feel many of the critters that benefit from grass are pesky to us, yet they are all part of nature's cycle of life.  Like grass itself, they have a place here.

In our world of extreme views, I suggest something radical: moderation.  Why don't we understand that grass has its place in the world too?  I am by no means touting the idea of better living through chemicals.  Indeed, clover in the front lawn is key to the well-being of the grass since this plant from the bean family (I kid you not!) fixates nitrogen in the soil.  Grass, as we know, can't survive without plenty of nitrogen.  So let a little clover mingle with the grass for their mutual benefit.

Other ways to keep a nice-looking, chemical-free lawn include using white vinegar to douse unwanted weeds.  I spritzed some on a patch of moss in the middle of my front lawn, tossed a few grass seeds on the spot a week later and now I have only healthy grass growing there.  Also important: keep grass about three inches long.  Not only will it look fuller but it will help choke out weeds.  When planting in the spring, make sure seeds go down after the last frost (usually around Mother's Day in the northeast where I live) and try to time the planting with a rainy stretch to cut down on the need for the garden hose.

I love flower gardens.  I love vegetable gardens too.  I believe in the power of all nature's plants.  And although I "think green" (a very good web site to check out is ironically called, Growfoodnotlawns.com), I also recall the pleasure derived lounging as a small girl in a thick thatch of grass, staring up at the clouds and dreaming.  Perhaps providing a soft cushion to starry-eyed children is grass' greatest attribute and reason enough to let it live.

Year of the Cicada

I chose to start this blog at a momentous time for Mother Nature: the year of the cicada.  It seems fitting to begin my foray into writing about nature during one of its special events: the coming of those winged Rip Van Winkles, who have been asleep nearly as long as their human counterpart-seventeen years. Only three years shy of Rip's famous 20-year nap!  And like the famous Mr. Van Winkle of folklore, the bloody-eyed locusts have awakened in New York's Catskill Mountains near my home, alerting residents of their presence with an apocalyptic drone impressive enough to inspire doomsday tales around the campfire.

But, as most of us have learned, these are not the locusts of Biblical proportion, who blighted the land and ruined those ancient lives.  These modern creatures are, well, harmless.  Okay, they are an eyesore, with their bulbous crimson eyes and eerily transparent wings. And I am not relishing plucking those creepy shells they emerge from off the flowers and trees in my garden, but I'm not seeing any damage to my foliage since their presence became so audibly apparent this past week.  I have heard tales of nibbling on the wood and leaves of trees so I questioned an expert about this at my local nursery. He recommended a dusting of clay to any plant you may find vulnerable to the critters.  It coats the plants and makes it harder to dig into.

I say cut these little buggers a break; they're really only visiting, making their way up through layers of rock and soil to enjoy their time in the sun.  The males are doing what all males of all species do: just trying to find a friendly female to  have a little fun with during their oh-so-brief time above ground.  They play their mating song via two vibrating plates on their abdomens.  Sure it's loud and shrill, but it's also their swan song, a fleeting reminder to us all that life is short and, at times, intensely sweet.  It may hit us with a nails-on-chalkboard intensity that resonates with discord in our heads but, hey, the noisy males die by the beginning of July and you won't have to hear the sound again for seventeen years!  Sit back and enjoy nature's music.